


Cato's Personality Issues

by movetotherhythm



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-09
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2017-12-18 05:48:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/876322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/movetotherhythm/pseuds/movetotherhythm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was my first ever fic and I thought I'd upload to here from fanfic.net</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first ever fic and I thought I'd upload to here from fanfic.net

Scared and sweating, Peeta Mellark awoke with a start. As he let his eyes adjust to the light, he shaded his face and scanned the surrounding woodland. Nothing but the brightness had changed since he fell asleep. No other tributes in sight, no mutts, nothing. Thank fuck Peeta thought as he breathed a sigh of relief. Right now wasn't a good time for a fight when considering the two injured allies on the ground next to him that he had to take care of. Peeta let his gaze fall to the pair lying there, sleeping. On the left was the girl whom he had loved for as long as he could remember. Katniss Everdeen, his fellow district 12 tribute, had never looked more vulnerable. In the last fight the pair had landed themselves in, Katniss had taken a knife to her arm and was left sporting a deep gash oozing blood that Peeta had just about managed to stem the flow of with a couple of leaves and a small length of rope. He'd improvised the plaster/tourniquet combination in the middle of the battlefield because he'd already decided to give up his own life to save the girl. They both made it out of that particular fight but Peeta knew that there would only be one winner and it was going to be Katniss. He was forced to rethink his decision when the tribute on the right of the two injured teenagers had saved both Peeta and Katniss's lives. Cato was tall, handsome, strong and arrogant. Typical career basically. However, during the fight on the plain behind the cornucopia, Cato almost died trying to stop the rest of the careers from killing Peeta.

Peeta's parents ran the bakery back in 12 so he had grown up around the customers and came to know a few things about people in general. He was a good judge of character and was able to read most people like a book. But Cato was unreadable. There was something about him that made Peeta feel safe and another something that terrified him. The boy from 2 could easily destroy the baker's son, probably with his bare hands if he needed to, so why did he risk so much to save him? The stab wound in Cato's thigh was enough to show the physical repercussions of making such a choice but he was now target number one in the career camp too. Peeta just didn't understand it at all.

The fight had happened the day before. Darkness was already approaching when Katniss and Peeta were ambushed by the career pack on the strip of clearing between the shrubs in which they had set up their camp and the woods in which the pair hunted and collected berries. There was always the risk that they'd be seen in the twenty seconds it took to cross this piece of ground but they'd done it a dozen times before without being seen. This time though, halfway across the clearing, the pair ran almost directly into the career pack and Clove came within inches of detaching Katniss's left ear from her head with a throwing knife. The chaos that ensued went on for what seemed like hours. Clove, Marvel and Glimmer attacked the pair mercilessly and Marvel would have slashed Peeta's throat had it not been for Katniss's perfectly aimed arrow splitting his skill into two. The two girls however were much more aggressive and strategic than the dead boy from District 1 and were more than a match for Katniss and Peeta. After leaving the gash in Katniss's arm, Clove left her for dead and helped Glimmer to overpower Peeta and for the second time in an hour, Peeta faced having his jugular dissected. This time, it was Cato that came to the rescue. He came running from the woodland into the clearing behind the cornucopia, dripping blood from the side of his head and, instead of aiming the swing of his sword at Peeta, he took the blade the Glimmer and quite cleanly cut her in two. Clove fled, clearly confused, but not before planting a blade in the thigh of Cato. Cato's cry of pain coincided with a double cannon shot.

Peeta was in pain but of the three members of this new alliance, he was the least hurt. He forged the makeshift plaster from the rope and leaves, fixing it on Katniss's arm. The girl was conscious but barely. Cato stumbled over and helped Peeta to help her to her feet and the two moved off into the woodland propping her on their shoulders. Somewhere in the journey, Katniss fell into unconsciousness but Peeta could feel her pulse in the wrist that he gripped with his hand, holding her. They walked on, silent for over an hour. Three, four, five miles into the forest they walked before stopping to quit for the night. They set Katniss down in the soft moss on the ground and let her sleep. The two boys decided on a watch schedule and Peeta would go first. But when it came to the time that he agreed with Cato, Peeta couldn't bring himself to wake the boy. So he stayed awake himself and watched his surroundings. It was well into morning when he fell asleep.

As Peeta watched Cato stir, he knew that he couldn't kill the boy himself. There was something about him that radiated safety and beauty. The rise and fall of the perfectly formed chest in his sleep to the stretching yawns just before the boy woke showed Peeta that Cato was to wake up refreshed. As Cato's eyelids lifted, Peeta was overcome by just how innocent he looked. He was beautiful. As he lay there in the mud next to Katniss who still slept soundly, he lifted his gaze to meet Peeta's and a soft half-smile formed on his lips. A scar above Cato's eye caught the sunlight and the pink skin reflected it, almost giving the face an illuminated impression.

"Morning, baker boy"

The words rolled from his mouth effortlessly as if Cato was caressing each one with his tongue on the way out.

"I thought I told you to wake me up. Am I mistaken or are you as stupid as you are cute?"

Did Cato really say that? As Peeta stood there confused, Cato quite clearly licked his lips and broke into a grin as he brought himself to a standing position, not breaking eye contact once.

To say that Peeta was shocked was an understatement. What the hell was Cato doing, flirting? The thought seemed absurd for a brief moment and then, without his brain consenting to it, Peeta's lips flashed a smile and his cheeks turned pink. Cato obviously saw because his grin deepened and he cleared the five metre distance between the two of them in a second.

"What's wrong baker boy? Cat got your tongue?"

The tone that Cato said this in was a fairly amusing combination of affected innocence and pure deliberate seduction. Peeta tried his best to look away from Cato but there was nothing that he could do to stop himself staring. So instead, he admired the boy in front of him.

Cato stood just over six feet tall with rippling muscles all down his body. His arms were fully defined and his bare chest was perfectly formed and glistened with sweat in the intense sunlight. Each individual ripple of his six-pack was identical to the other five and for someone who looked as if he should be heavy and clumsy, he was remarkably agile. Cato's face was definitely his most definitive feature though. From the baby blue eyes that lay behind his dirty blond fringe to the perky, pink lips of his mouth, every single facial feature of Cato's could have been hand sculpted. He was a figure of beauty.

Cato watched as Peeta surveyed him, never looking away once. The two boys made eye contact again and once again, Peeta's eyes were greeted with a grin.

"So baker boy, what's our next move?"


	2. The Star Crossed Lovers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gosh I didn't realize how badly written this was but I feel like it's an important part of my life

The two blonds were still sizing each other up, faces and bodies a foot apart, when the cannon sounded. Peeta broke his stare away from the face of the other boy to make sure that Katniss was still breathing. She was. Peeta took a seat on the log next to his sleeping district partner and allowed his mind to wander.

Clove, Thresh, Rue, Foxface. One more was dead but which one? Clove was the best case scenario for Peeta because she'd already nearly killed him twice in the games and that was more than enough for his liking. If it had been Thresh's cannon, it wouldn't have been the worst thing in the world either. Peeta had learned not to live in hope though and so he surmised that it was most likely the signal of little Rue's death seeing as neither of the groups (confirmed by Cato) had seen Foxface since the initial bloodbath.

Peeta looked over to Cato who nodded, as if agreeing with what he had just been thinking about despite there being no possible way that he could actually know what that was.

"Rue probably, baker boy" Cato said with what could have been mistaken for a very slight amount of pity, "and then there were six."

"Can you stop fucking calling me that? My name is Peeta." Peeta couldn't stop his voice resonating with anger and Cato was taking by surprise.

"Of course Peeta, I didn't think you'd mine considering I just saved your life but whatever" Cato was offended, Peeta could tell by the way that his voice had lost the seductive tone and gone back to his usual cold, damp manner "which I still haven't had a thank you for."

"You'll get my thanks when I get an explanation. Why did you do it Cato?" said Peeta, much more accusatory than he had intended. Shit. Cato was right, he had just saved the pair's life so why was Peeta so… so harsh?

"I thought… you looked like… you maybe needed a little help… that's all" Cato's voice faltered and not only did he shift his gaze for the first time in the conversation, he flushed pink too.

"That's not an explanation as to why you ran out on your district partner, cut one of your allies in half and risked your life to save two people you'll ultimately have to kill anyway. So what's the catch?" Peeta didn't know where this mean streak was coming from but he was going to get answers even if it meant wrestling them from that perfect physique.

"I thought we'd last longer…" the larger of the two's voice trailed off again but he had returned to normal colour and was able to meet Peeta's eye now.

"Bullshit."

"Believe what you want sweetie, I'm telling the truth" that odd sort of flirtatiousness was back in Cato's voice now, "I thought it was time to form a stronger alliance."

"Again, bullshit. There were nine of us left alive at the time and you were allied with five of them. What are you hiding, Cato?" Peeta was more than accusatory now; he was demanding an answer and Cato looked like he was going to try to squirm out of the conversation when a voice from behind them spoke up.

"He's got a point there Cato, why did you save us?"

Katniss had regained consciousness and had obviously heard enough of the conversation to know basically what had happened after Clove left her for dead. Cato eyed her with nothing short of repulsion. He didn't even try to hide the loathing in his gaze.

"Something tells me it wasn't because you wanted to protect Katniss through the remainder of the games" Peeta joked with an affected air of wisdom in his voice, "so unless you did it so you could declare your undying love for me then I'm at a loss."

And to the surprise of Peeta, the surprise of Katniss and the surprise of every viewer in the country of Panem, Cato dropped his eyes to the floor and his cheeks went a deep maroon.

"Oh my" was all Katniss could muster before launching into a fit of laughter so loud that along with the other tributes, the civilians of the Capitol would have struggled not to hear her. She collapsed to the ground writhing in unison with her bellows of laughter and trying her best to point at Cato as she done so. Clearly she found this declaration of love too much to handle. Cato glared at her and had he been holding his sword, the games would have been down to five within seconds.

Peeta stood quietly, not smiling, not laughing. His mouth was slightly ajar and his tongue sat between his lips, stopping it from closing. His head was tilted slightly to the side and his eyes twinkled in the sunlight. There was a curious expression on his face. Peeta edged towards Cato, ignoring Katniss's screams of laughter. The two boys stood less than a metre apart, eyes locked in each other's gaze.

"Are you serious?" Peeta asked. There wasn't a hint of irony or sarcasm in his voice.

"Yes"

The whisper was barely audible but Peeta just caught it. He brought his right hand up to rest below the crevice in Cato's chin. Peeta half smiled and looked deep into his counterpart's eyes. He raised his lips to Cato's ear and breathed the words.

"I don't believe you, Cato."

Katniss's cackles had calmed slightly but they were still the only thing that Cato and Peeta could hear. But even so, those words sounded like they were screamed to Cato.

"What do you mean you don't believe me?" he asked, clearly exasperated.

"I mean that you're going to have to kill me in the next couple of days so if you had actually wanted something to come out of this, you would have said when we actually had time left."

The laughing stopped. That shut her up, Peeta thought. Although he truly believed in what he was saying, that Cato's words were part of a plan because he would have to kill them at some point to get home alive. On the other hand, Cato had saved the pair of them and he clearly didn't like Katniss at all so the only logical reason would be to do with Peeta. And there was something in Cato's eyes that Peeta oh so dearly wanted to trust. He could get lost in those baby blues.

Since Cato had saved them, Peeta had become confused as to what he wanted. Right from the reaping, he and Haymitch had planned to get Katniss out of the arena alive. Yet here he was inches from the career tribute that his mentor had singled out as the biggest threat. And more than that, it was the safest Peeta had felt since the opening ceremony. But Peeta had made a promise. He decided before the games that he would get Katniss out at all costs. Peeta decided there and then in the sunlight with Cato that the two boys were going to die so that the girl on fire could live. But that didn't mean they couldn't enjoy the time they had left.

"If I was to believe you then what would happen?"

"I don't know baker boy, why don't you tell me?"

The seduction was back. Cato knew he had won. In a swift movement, the former career flung his arms around the neck of the shorter boy. As he grinned down at his prize, Cato felt a feeling of completeness in his heart. Peeta looked into the deep blue eyes of his seducer, wondering what it would feel like to make love to the boy in front of him. Peeta smiled at the thought. Cato needed no more invitation.

When the taller blond pressed his lips against Peeta, a volcano erupted in his chest. It was pure bliss! Peeta felt the same exhilaration flowing through his body and for a moment the two of them were infinite. There were no games, no capitol, no Katniss. Just Peeta and Cato. The boy from District 12 and the boy from District 2. Together. As their tongues entwined, Cato brought his body into Peeta's and the two shared heat and sweat and happiness. In that moment of joy, the two boys were content.

The kiss lasted for around half a minute but it felt like milliseconds to Peeta. His new insatiable desire for the blond wrestled with his need to keep Katniss alive. It almost overcame it too but that would never ever happen. Peeta was just suddenly very aware that Katniss was watching so he broke the kiss off. There go the sponsors of the star-crossed lovers. As he turned away from Cato, Peeta sensed that something was wrong. Maybe it was the sinister whistling from the trees or something else but something had sent shivers down his spine.

As Peeta laid eyes on his district partner, he realized two things. The first being that he had betrayed Katniss. While he did love her more than anything in the world, she had always been passive at best towards him but that was no excuse. The relationship of the star-crossed lovers was how Katniss was going to survive the games. It got her sponsors and protection and whatever else Katniss needed she was more than capable of getting herself. But still, Peeta had promised to protect her and here he was kissing another tribute that was bound to kill her at some point.

The second thing he realized was that two inches of blade protruded from between Katniss's breasts. Blood poured down her torso and onto the floor and her eyes were vacant. Thresh stood behind her with his hands still firmly grasping the hilt of the sword. He thrust forward and a further half foot of steel appeared in the gap between Katniss's breasts. There was a sickening crunch, a squeal of pain and the lips of the girl on fire formed words for the last time as she fell.

"Peeta."

A cannon exploded far away. Katniss Everdeen was dead before she hit the ground.


	3. Forgotten Feelings

Peeta didn’t have time to register what had happened before the arrow sank itself into Thresh’s thigh. As he turned to see Cato holding the bow that had belonged to Katniss only seconds before, a second was released from the string. Thresh collapsed to the floor with the shaft of the arrow still lodged in his skull.

Peeta sank to his knees and let out a groan. The love of his life, the girl he had sworn to protect, had died metres away from him. If he hadn’t been so selfish thinking about Cato, the three of them would have seen Thresh before he could kill her. And yet, he didn’t feel ashamed or overly sad. A different feeling arose in his chest. It was the pressure of Cato’s hand on his shoulder that stopped him thinking about it before he could put a name to the feeling.

“We need to move Peeta.”

There wasn’t a hint of flirting in Cato’s voice. He was alert and clearly worried. He didn’t even bother to wait for Peeta to stand up; he just scooped him up into his arms and departed the scene. An explosion informed them that Thresh too had died along with Katniss from his wounds and he wouldn’t be following them. It was unlikely that he ever would have done after taking an arrow to his brain but Thresh was 6’5 and borderline superhuman. Cato glided through the trees, not making a sound and Peeta lay in his arms looking into his face, trying to figure him out.

Needless to say, Peeta was devastated about letting Katniss die like that. But it was totally out of his control now. He loved her and he would always love her but there was nothing he could do to save a dead girl. But Peeta knew that the blue eyes that he looked into were oh so alive and that was all he could bring himself to focus on. The strange feeling returned to Peeta’s chest but before he could put a name to it, Cato stopped and set him back on his feet. The feeling was forgotten once again.

The two boys stood face to face for the first time since the earlier kiss had been broken. Twenty teenagers had died in six days and all Peeta could think of was how gorgeous Cato looked caked in perspiration with the sun beating down on him. What the fuck was wrong with him? He’d never so much as looked at another guy in his life so he couldn’t tell what it was that attracted him so much to Cato. There was something behind that swagger that emitted everything that Peeta wanted. Security, affection, strength. Peeta gazed into those great blue eyes and wondered what lay behind them. Cato raised a hand and let it fall against the side of Peeta’s neck. Peeta responded by lifting one of his own to rest on Cato’s hip. The two blonds stood for a moment loosely gripping the boy opposite, each satisfied by the attention of the other. Then it became too much to bear.

This time it was Peeta that leant in first. The finger that Cato used to stroke his neck was replaced by a palm pulling him in. As the lips met for the second time in an hour, Peeta felt the stirring in his chest again and the longing that he’d felt since the first contact became overwhelming. As his tongue brushed the roof of Cato’s mouth, the baker’s son became engulfed in the heat of the moment and brought his hands down to meet the hemline of his interest’s makeshift shorts. With a quick tug, it became clear what he wanted to do to. Cato broke the kiss and looked down at him, his expression somewhere between aroused and amused as he adopted his seductive drawl again.

“ _Let’s see how good you are with your fingers then, baker boy”_

As Peeta dropped to his knees to allow his teeth to join his hands in the attempt to drop Cato’s shorts, he promised himself he’d get back at Cato for calling him baker boy. He really hated that. There was a boy back in District 12 that he’d once shouted at for calling him it. He would have hit him too had he not been a scrawny little loser. But he knew that he wouldn’t shout at Cato, he’d get him back some other way.

The popper on Cato’s shorts burst open with as much enthusiasm as the boy wearing them showed on his face. As Peeta pulled the waistband down Cato’s thighs, he let his lips brush against the top of his length and the boy above let out a short moan. The waistband lowered further and Cato ran his fingers through Peeta’s hair as his member was released into the warm air. Peeta regarded it for a moment before brushing his tongue against the tip – another moan from Cato, this one relatively longer than the first. Peeta glanced upwards to meet the eyes that so begged him to move onwards but he stayed still for a moment teasing the larger boy, toying with him. Cato’s eyes were filled with lust and he was biting his lower lip to stop the groan of longing escaping him. Growing pressure from the hand that cradled his head told Peeta that the time for teasing was over. So he went for it.

Peeta took the end of Cato’s eight inches into his mouth and tasted the bitter pre-cum on his taste buds. The flaccidity of the larger boy’s member had been replaced by a rock hard solidity and as Peeta let his tongue glide over the tip of Cato’s penis, he pondered whether he could possibly be any harder. He worked his tongue around Cato’s tip and then led his head bob up and down, further and further along the shaft with each go. The baker’s son was surprised to find that he could comfortably take all of Cato’s length inside him without gagging and even more surprised to find that he was actually rather good at this – well, judging by Cato’s continued moans of pleasure anyway.

It took a few minutes to bring Cato to edge of climax but once there, Peeta quickly formed a rather devious plan to get back at him for the earlier comment. As Cato began to flex his hips towards the mouth that gave him so much pleasure, Peeta knew he was on the edge. Cato’s breathing shortened into quick, sharp, audible exhales and Peeta judged correctly the second of climax. As Cato began to release his load with a loud sigh of pleasure, Peeta pulled his mouth away from the shaft but not before lingering right on the tip and biting down fairly hard. Cato’s sounds of pleasure turned into a cry of pain but it didn’t stop him exploding his second, third and fourth load onto Peeta’s waiting lips.

When the two boys were eye-to-eye again, Cato had an expression of mild discomfort on his face. It was clear that the bite hadn’t hurt for long but for the second that it panged, it _really_ hurt him. _Well, that’s what you get Cato_ ran through Peeta’s mind as his lips formed a smile born purely out of satisfaction. Cato looked wounded. Not physically, just wounded in general.

“What the fuck was that?” he asked in exasperation.

“I told you not to call me baker boy didn’t I?” was Peeta’s immediate reply, “It’s not that difficult, Cato. Don’t call me baker boy and I won’t bite your cock off.”

The baker’s son thought for a split second that Cato was going to attack him but then a grin broke his sweet face. The wounded appearance had evaporated.

“You little shit; I’ll get you for that.”

Before Peeta could respond to the comment, he’d been lifted off his feet. He wrapped his legs around Cato’s hips and the two kissed for a third time. This kiss lasted much longer than the other two and Peeta was so engrossed in its passion that he didn’t notice Cato rest him on the ground below his own body. The two lay there in the heat, kissing furiously, sharing sweat, saliva and the juices left on Peeta’s lip by Cato’s explosion. They were so wrapped up in each other that they didn’t notice the silver parachute float down until it collided with the side of Cato’s head. Taking a brief break from exploring the inside of each other’s mouth, Cato pulled the small silver box apart and a light blue square fell to the floor. _A condom._ Well, this was a first. In all of the games that Peeta had seen in his lifetime, he’d never seen a condom delivered by sponsors.

And then a strange thought occurred to him. His little indiscretion with Cato may well have been playing live all over the country. Every set of eyes in Panem may have witnessed him bite the end of Cato’s member. Somehow though, he doubted it. The capitol wouldn’t allow such an image to be seen by the people in the districts. Although whether it was public viewing in the capitol itself was another matter, a matter that didn’t trouble Peeta at all. _Well if they want a show,_ he thought, _let’s give them one._

In a quick move, Peeta had thrust his hips and rolled his legs into a different position so that the end of Cato’s penis rested against the thin strip of clothing separating Peeta’s backside from the warm air. Cato had already opened the wrapper and began feeding his member into the latex. Peeta eyed it longingly and knew that in a few short minutes, there would be eight inches of career inside him. The thought turned him on more than any kissing ever could. With one hand, Cato rolled the condom down his shaft and with the other he parted Peeta and the trousers. In the space of a second, Cato brought his tip right to the point of entry. He looked down into Peeta’s longing eyes, just waiting for the signal. In reply, Peeta winked.

For the first few seconds after the initial penetration, Peeta had to suppress a scream, it was that painful. But when his body adjusted to the foreign object entering it, the pain grew into pure pleasure. Cato thrust and rolled inside of Peeta and it felt like every single vibration and movement was going to send Peeta over the edge. And then Cato found a sweet spot and Peeta yelped in lust and pleasure and joy and sheer physical enjoyment.  Cato pushed in and out of Peeta’s body, hitting the sweet spot every time and less than a minute after the first yelp, Peeta let out another one, this time loud enough to make the closest birds take flight. He looked down at his torso while Cato still eased in and out of his hole and the amount of semen that he’d spurted onto his own chest was slightly frightening.

A moment later, Cato came again and collapsed onto Peeta, kissing his neck and running his fingers up and down the sides of his body. Peeta’s hands found Cato’s back and he grasped the boy for a moment in a loving embrace. For a moment, everything was still. Cato, still inside Peeta, lay in the embrace of the boy underneath him. Peeta, sweating, shaking and smiling, dug his nails into the larger boy’s back to confirm a job well done. Then the two broke apart.

Lying there naked after the deed was done was much more awkward for Peeta than before but Cato seemed to understand. He picked up the trousers that he’d skilfully taken from Peeta’s body and threw them to him. He even turned around as Peeta put them back on. When Peeta stood half-clothed again, he let Cato know it was okay to turn around.

“That was really fucking good. Where did you learn to do that so well?” Peeta couldn’t stop himself from asking.

“Practice, I guess. For a virgin, you were easy” Cato responded a little too indifferently. Peeta could sense that he’d paid Cato a massive compliment. As Cato failed to stifle the smile that grew on his lips, the strange feeling he’d felt after Katniss’s death rose in Peeta’s chest, stronger than ever. And Peeta was startled at how easily the name of it formed in his head.

_Relief._


	4. A Final Night of Love and Friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this fic is so bad it embarrasses me but it's the first fic i ever wrote so i feel i have a duty to share it

Four left. That’s all that was running through Peeta’s mind. Four left. The unexpected relief that had come with Katniss’s death was easily explained. For the first time since the games began there was a chance that Peeta would see District 12 again. Four left. Three more would die. Was it possible that Peeta could actually win? He didn’t want to even consider the idea because the further along in the games that a tribute got, the more complacent they became and he knew that he couldn’t afford to do that. Clove, Foxface, Rue, and Cato. Three of them were alive. Peeta knew that if he got the chance to kill Clove or Foxface, he’d take it without hesitation. Rue might be tricky considering how young she was but he thought he’d be able to get around that. He’d do anything to get home; anything but perhaps one thing. If it really came down to it, Peeta didn’t know if he’d be able to   
kill Cato or not.

After the two boys had indulged in their passionate afternoon, they set up their camp in the shade of a giant willow tree next to a small clearing that looked like a meadow. Considering there were only four tributes left, the two doubted that they’d be troubled. It was the tradition of the Hunger Games to send the final few tributes into a grand finale, a fight to the death by the cornucopia. Instead of fighting the inevitable, the pair decided on spending one final night in peace. 

In the hours leading up to darkness, the baker’s son and the tribute from two learned about each other. Peeta told of his neglectful mother, the life of living entirely off of stale bread from the bakery, the Hob woman’s crazy granddaughter, the teacher at school with the lazy eye that he’d made fun of in the second grade and gained a clip around the ear for his troubles. He told of his time admiring Katniss, watching her walk home every day, how she lost the twinkle in her eye after the mining accident. 

In return, he learned about Cato’s life. The pre-determined career path of being a peacekeeper, the difficulties of growing up with parents that cared more about success than their children, the sibling he had lost in the 69th games and how his parents had still forced him to volunteer himself. Peeta listened to the stories in awe and confusion; he’d always assumed that life in general was cushiony for those in the Capitol-favoured districts. But no amount of Capitol care could ever block out personal turmoil. The boys talked as they gathered fire wood. They talked as they collected nuts. They talked as they pitched the tent Cato had stolen from career camp. They talked as they sat on logs and ate their fire roasted nuts. They talked for what seemed like an eternity; until there was nothing left to say. 

Finally there was but one tale left to tell: the story of their own reapings. Peeta began by expressing how scared and lonely he had felt but then it was replaced by the determination to keep Katniss alive. He spoke of his shock in being reaped considering his name was only in the pot twice compared to the likes of some of the Seam kids who would have had their own name up for selection well over forty times. He finished with the story of his mother visiting him in the waiting room before he was moved to the train. Of how she had spoken of a winner for District Twelve for once. And of how dismayed he’d felt when he realized that his own mother wasn’t talking about him. He looked over to Cato, expecting a grin and some false tale of how excited he’d been to volunteer. How he’d revelled in the envious glances thrown by his childhood peers. But this wasn’t the sight that greeted him.

Cato sat on a log about two metres in front of Peeta. He rested his elbows on his knees and cradled his chin in his hands. He was looking blankly in Peeta’s direction. He was listening, but somehow he was almost not present. And then Peeta noticed something that scared him more than any mutt or tribute ever could. A single tear had collected at the side of Cato’s eye and as he blinked, it dribbled down his cheek tormenting him as it went. The vacant expression on his face became so much more worrying when it was coupled the obvious sadness he was feeling.

It was then that it dawned on Peeta that Cato was a lonely person. He’d grown up surrounded by people that shut their emotions out and trained specifically for two purposes: to kill and to oppress. This one lonely teenage boy had never had a person that he could talk to about his bad times, his good times; he’d never felt the security of being in the presence of somebody who truly cared for him. Cato had never been able to show the way he felt and it was all too clear to Peeta that it had affected him in ways that most people would never be able to imagine. The single tear that trickled its way down Cato’s face showed behind it a lifetime of hurt, isolation and deep despair. Peeta couldn’t begin to imagine what the other boy was feeling.

Cato brought his hand up to wipe the tear away but Peeta instinctively blocked his way. As he took Cato’s hand in his own, he looked deep into the beautiful blue eyes that held his gaze and he whispered the first thing that came to his mind because it felt like the right thing to say.

“Let it flow, Cato.”

It was all that was needed. Cato looked humbled and it turned out the tear had friends. Back in 12, what Cato experienced at that moment would have been described as a full-on meltdown but for Hunger Games standards it was just a mild display of weakness. Peeta watched and listened as Cato poured his heart out. The torment he’d faced from his family when he’d told them he didn’t want to volunteer, the threat of banishment from his home, the disgust in his father’s eyes when he’d dared to sob as he said what could well have been his final goodbyes. Cato told of how his stylist Marvia had told him to keep his friends close in the arena and of how he watches as hour-by-hour, Clove lost her sanity and how it destroyed him to see his only friend reduced to an evil, quivering entity of anger. 

By the time Cato had cried himself out, the arena had been taken over by darkness and the only illumination came from the ashes of the burnt out fire. The smoke of the fire had stained his face but his tears had smudged them so his face looked almost like a snail’s trail of slime on a forest floor. But he still looked beautiful to Peeta. Peeta moved across the gap between the two, over the embers and dirt and came to kneel before Cato, still gripping one hand and he placed his lips between the eyes of the larger boy. He stayed for a moment before dropping them to the boy’s own lips and they lingered, mouths together with eyes open, looking into each other’s eyes and souls. It wasn’t one of the passionate kisses that Peeta had come to crave but a loving kiss, made up of safety and pure unconditional affection. 

The two moved from the logs and lay in the front of the tent. As they both knew in their hearts that it was the final night of the games, there would be no point in keeping a guard – the Gamekeepers would want all of the tributes to have as much energy as possible for the finale. 

As Peeta lay on the tarpaulin floor of the tent, covered in a maroon blanket and wrapped in Cato’s strong arms, he watched the final dying embers of the fire break, sizzle and darken before all was consumed in darkness. Even without the ability to see further than a few metres away, Peeta felt totally safe in that moment. Lying there in Cato’s arms felt like bliss and he wanted it to be an eternal source of joy. But that would never be able to happen. At least one of them would die the next day and there was nothing that they could do to prevent that from happening. As Peeta tried to imagine losing Cato days after losing Katniss he realized that his life outside of the arena would have no purpose to it at all. 

It seemed like an odd time of night when the Capitol seal showed itself and the anthem began to play. But then it became clear that it had just gone midnight of the final day of the Hunger Games. This was the norm. As the anthem played out, three faces were displayed in the sky. Foxface, Thresh and Katniss’s faces displayed for much longer than any of the others that preceded them. Peeta felt a pang of regret at seeing Katniss’s face but it was once again replaced by that odd sense of relief. The seal disappeared and the music stopped and the only thing left in the world was the two heartbeats, mingling into one. Peeta turned to lie face-to-face with Cato, their bodies resting against each other. Both were hard as rocks. As they started up another fiery kiss, the two boys caught sight of one another, their eyes the only visible things in a world of darkness and in the one moment, a spark between them was ignited and tonight was to be the night that the two boys bypassed sex and made love to one another. Peeta couldn’t see it but he sensed the smile on the other boy’s face. Then he felt it on his neck. 

As Peeta prepared himself for his love to enter him, he became very aware that he knew whether he’d be able to kill Cato or not. And it was a definite ‘not’. There was no way that he could ever harm a hair on the head of the boy that so completed him. As he rode the waves of pleasure that Cato’s member sent through his body, he didn’t try to suppress the sounds of his joy. Peeta knew that this was the last time he’d ever make love to Cato and he was going to enjoy it as much as he possibly could. 

The boys were entwined for hours, kissing, biting, sucking and holding each other for as long as they possibly could until sleep became a necessity. It was easily the most whole that Peeta had ever felt in his entire life. When they broke apart, Peeta found Cato’s eyes again and in the split second of eye contact, he decided. He’d been prepared to give his life for Katniss and he was prepared to give his life for Cato.

Before exhaustion took over his body, Peeta had time to think of how glad he was that he’d found his true love before he died. But consciousness became too much and he fell asleep in the arms of the boy that he was determined to die for.


	5. Preparations

Of the two of them, Peeta woke first.

When his eyes opened, everything was still rather dark but he knew by the absence of fatigue in his body that he must have slept for at least eight hours. And comparing that to the time that the boys went to sleep, it should have been mid-morning.

It took Peeta a few minutes to realize that the Gamemakers had total control over the arena and that the darkness was artificial. It didn't change the fact that he couldn't see further than five metres in front of his face though, so he didn't let his mind stay on the thought. Okay, time to get up.

As Peeta lifted himself to his feet, he scanned his surroundings. Holding his breath, he balanced his weight on his toes, ready to evade any sudden attack but there didn't seem to be one coming. There was something different about the atmosphere though. Most likely, it was the sense of impending death that hung on the moisture of the warm, bitter air. For today was the day. The day that three teenagers would die and one would become a historical figure, entering a life of riches and comfort, something that Peeta had never experienced.

He allowed himself to imagine how happy his family would be in such an environment for a few short seconds before dragging himself back into reality. He'd decided that he was going to die for Cato to live and he was going to stick to his choice. Thinking of his family wouldn't help him do that.

Peeta was moving before he even realized it himself. His legs carried him over to stand underneath the willow tree that they'd set up camp a few metres away from. Despite the darkness in the arena, the meadow that spread out in front of his feet seemed to glisten, reflecting some non-existent light.

Despite the lack of sun, the damp air contained enough warmth to keep the temperature pleasant. Peeta peeled the socks off of his feet and laid them on a low branch. Considering the only other garment of clothing he was wearing was the trousers he'd had since the start of the games but rolled up into makeshift shorts, the thin line of cotton leaving his body made no difference. But it was nice to feel the ground underneath his feet.

He strolled out into the meadow, letting his toes sprawl out and scratch the surface of the earth. The soft, moisture filled soil compressed under him and the spongy mud sprang back into place with each step.

The meadow stretched out in all directions and for the first time since being reaped, Peeta felt a sense of tranquillity inside him. Even the time with Cato hadn't relaxed him as much as this. As he took in his surroundings, he tried to figure out what it was that made the place so peaceful. He came to the conclusion as his eyes came to rest on a cluster of dark berries in a small patch of light. Nightlock. Katniss had nearly punched him when he had tried to harvest them to eat and because of the run in they'd had due to it, Peeta would never forget what these berries looked like.

A sort of sadness came over Peeta as he came to realize that he was going to die; probably in a couple of hours. Despite the fact that he'd chosen to die – twice, for two different people – it had never actually hit him that it was going to happen so soon. He knew he couldn't control it if Cato was to live but he knew that he could control how it was going to happen.

So he harvested a few berries, seven to be exact. A pile big enough to kill him almost instantly but still small enough to fit comfortably in the small pouch he had back in the tent. It was funny really, Peeta had always wanted his own death to be natural and quick and he wanted to know it was coming; technically both of these were a given.

He took a moment to stand in the darkness, breathing in his surroundings. With his eyes relaxed and nose upturned into the sky, Peeta inhaled the damp air into his lungs and let out a slow sigh. He was focused. He was ready.

Back at the tent, Peeta weighed the berries tentatively, knowing how deadly there were. It'd be so easy to do it now he thought. But as tempting as the idea was, he couldn't bear to even imagine Cato waking up to find him dead. So he pushed the idea straight out of his head.

For a few seconds that felt like many hours, Peeta stood in the semi-darkness watching his lover sleep. The boy that had come to mean so much, the boy he was ready to die for. Correction: going to die for. Peeta had dressed himself and deposited the berries safely in the small pouch that fit perfectly in some stitched pocket above his heart.

The light was blinding when it came. Ever so suddenly, the darkness was gone. It was in the space of a second, as if some opaque veil had been lifted from the dome that was the Hunger Games arena. It took Peeta a while to adjust but when he did he saw Cato stirring and dropped to his knees beside him.

"Cato. Cato, darling, wake up" he breathed into the ear of the bigger of the two, "it's time."

The 74th annual Hunger Games were to come to a close soon. Peeta supposed it made sense; with a Quarter Quell to prepare for, the capitol would want to get on with the preparations as soon as possible.

"Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh"

Peeta couldn't suppress a smile at the groan that Cato let out when awoken.

"Come on, ten more minutes, mom; please"

Peeta didn't know what it was the irked him so about the comment. Perhaps it was the fact that Cato was quite clearly immune to the nightmares that he himself suffered nightly. Or perhaps that was nothing to do with it and he was just irritable in general because he knew he only had a few hours to live. Whatever it was, Peeta was pissed and he let it show when he spoke.

"Shut up and wake up Cato, I'm not your mother. We have some business to attend to."

Peeta met the pair of baby blue eyes as they opened. The first thing Cato saw when he woke was the shorter blond staring into him. They probably would have held the gaze for a relatively long time had Peeta not noticed the huge tower in the blanket right above an area that should have housed Cato's penis.

"Wow, someone's either really excited to kill a few people or he's just really happy to see me."

Cato's cheeks went as deep red as the blanket he hid his obvious erection under.

"W-well you, um, well" he spluttered out as Peeta revelled in his embarrassment.

"W-w-well y-you u-u-um what?" Peeta openly mocked the boy in front of him. It was pure bliss to be the one with the upper hand.

"Well… considering what happened last night I didn't think you'd mind much about seeing me… you know" Cato spat out, somewhat defiantly but also clearly sheepishly as he gathered as much of the blanket to cover his privates as possible. Well, Peeta thought smugly to himself, 'privates' probably isn't the word anymore.

"Are you even wearing underwear? Oh come on, I'm not bothered about seeing you just put your clothes on; we need to head to the centre before we're forced there. You can sense it's the finale" he said to Cato, "get ready and we'll move."

Cato looked up at Peeta questioning him silently but he made no attempt to argue. He stood up and let the maroon cloth fall to the floor and stood cheek naked in front of Peeta. It was no surprise to the baker's son that the tent in the blanket was so big, standing there looking at it made it seem even bigger.

Cato dressed himself in the shorts and t-shirt that he had kept since the opening day of the games. For such a warm day, he was surprisingly fresh and sweat free so the clothes felt comfortable on.

The two decided between them that they'd take a single bag with them to the centre of the arena because if it was to be the final day, they wouldn't need anything more than a single morning's supplies.

While filling the bag, Cato stole more than a few glances at Peeta. He's so innocent. How can I possibly kill him? He answered the question in his own mind. He couldn't. At all. Ever. He thought he'd even struggle to watch Peeta die, let alone cause it. Even living on knowing that Peeta wasn't would cause tremendous pain. So he came to a decision. One that at first shocked him but after thinking about it in depth, there was no alternative. I'll die for him. He was willing to die for the boy who had grown to mean so much to him.

The two boys shared a last few minutes of peace next to the meadow before Peeta sighed and stood up. His love joined him on his feet.

"Come on then" he said avoiding the eye of Cato, "let's do this."

Cato nodded and swung the backpack over his shoulder. With the arm that wasn't supporting the bag, he stretched out and took Peeta's hand.

Hand in hand, the two boys walked together back to where the games had begun, both under the impression that they were walking to their own death.

But the games must have a victor.


	6. The Final Walk

They didn't break their hold of each other once in their journey. Even when stumbling over trees, pushing back bushes and manoeuvring their way through tight areas, the boys kept the contact between their hands intact. It was as if somehow, if they didn't let go, they'd never be separated.

They travelled silently, occasionally glancing at each other. Although neither of them said it, they were just comfortable in each other's company that they didn't need words to communicate. Just the presence of one another was enough.

The day was warm and pleasant and had they not been walking into a fight to the death, the atmosphere would have been cheery and optimistic. But the circumstances were unfortunate and both boys knew they were heading into their last moments together.

Something in the air had told them that the Games were coming to a close and it's a good job they noticed it. About halfway through the journey, smoke began to rise from behind them and when looking from higher ground, Cato confirmed that there was a fire spreading through the woodland.

"Obviously," he said matter-of-factly, "they're trying to get us all into the clearing in the centre. The fire will stop before it reaches it, I can guarantee it."

Peeta dismissed Cato's tone as nerves and let the pretentious tone leave his mind but Cato was deliberately trying to irk Peeta. He thought that if he could piss him off enough, Peeta might be able to kill him and go on to win. Some basic survival instinct inside of Cato was messing this plan up though as he was giving a really half-hearted attempt.

The crackling of the flames had become audible to the two boys but not so loud that it became a problem to them. As long as they continued in the direction that the Gamemakers wanted them to go, they were safe.

When they came to the corner of the clearing, the flames had almost caught up with them but the boys were too preoccupied to worry about it; they didn't have far left to go. A few metres behind the thin line of trees that separated the forest from the clearing, Peeta thrust his arm out to stop Cato.

"Before we move on, I want to make something clear to you" he said, his arm against Cato's chest, blocking any movement, "I really fucking love you, with all of my heart. I've known you for about ten days and seriously, I'm so thankful for our time together. I came into these Games with the intention of laying down my life for Katniss. Obviously that isn't going to happen now but whatever does happen, I just want to make something perfectly, 100%, crystal clear: if I die in the next few hours, you have made the last days of my life the most fulfilling of my life. Thank you, Cato. For everything."

Cato took a step backwards and leant against a tree. Literally nobody had ever said something like that to him. Not his parents, not his friends, nobody. Cato smiled broadly as he spoke his reply.

"You're welcome, Peeta. I know how hard your life has been and if that's truly the way you feel then I'm glad I've managed to bring you some happiness. But it's not entirely one sided. When I first spoke to you in training, I realized what a wonderful person you are and to make that big an impression on me is remarkable. You've changed my life, Peeta, you really have. I mean I came out to you on live TV in front of the entire country and you could have killed me on the spot. Despite our time together being rushed, I'm so glad I found you. Now there are three scenarios here: I die and you live, you die and I live or both of us die. But I want you to promise me now that you're not just going to die for me. At least try to survive. Promise me now."

'So he knows then' Peeta thought bitterly, 'am I really that readable?'

"Okay," Peeta said begrudgingly, "I'll try."

"Promise you'll try."

"I promise I'll try to survive."

"Good." Cato looked satisfied at the chain of events. There was something boyish about his appearance now that radiated excitement. Peeta supposed that no matter how much Cato had changed in the previous days, he had volunteered for glory and he was within touching distance. If Peeta was actually trying to survive, he would have been worried.

The two boys stood facing each other again, looking into each other's eyes only tens of metres away from where the final battle would begin.

The fifteen foot high flames were creeping closer and Cato estimated that they had about five minutes to use until they would have to move through the clearing. They spent it cuddling, whispering "I love yous" and dreaming silently of the same dream: a world where they would both live and grow old together. And that silent comfort in each other's company was so clear that it was almost physical.

When the flames had come to within ten feet of them, they needed to move. Not because they would have been set on fire but because it was unbearably hot. Cato grasped his long sword in his hand while Peeta gripped Katniss's bow and a four inch long knife. He had three arrows and awful co-ordination.

In a final act of togetherness, the two boys joined hands and stepped through the opening in the trees and into the clearing. They didn't have time to take in the surroundings before they spotted Clove standing next to the cornucopia. Before she caught sight of them though, a voice boomed around the arena.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I welcome you to the conclusion of the 74th Annual Hunger Games! In the coming hours, three of you will die and one of you will stand alone as victor. Good luck, and may the odds of course be ever in your favour."

Claudius Templesmith's voice echoed a final time before it was drowned out by the crackling wall of fire, the heartbeats in the ears of the tributes and Clove's blood-curdling scream as the first of her eight knives left her fingertips.


	7. A Fight to the Death

Cato moved at the very last moment. He nudged Peeta hard enough to knock him off balance and the blade nicked the smaller boy's ear instead of planting itself between his eyes.

"CATO" came the ungodly shriek from Clove, "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?"

The seven words were enough to show Cato that his absence, or at the least the circumstances in which he'd left, had completely unhinged her. She sounded deranged. With another high pitched squeal, she broke into a sprint heading straight at the pair of boys.

While Peeta stumbled backwards away from the approaching psychopath, Cato prepared his arm for the blow. He reached back before bringing his right hand forward with such force that he would have knocked her yards backwards had he connected but she swerved around him at the last minute. He swung his sword-bearing left hand around in an attempt to make up for the mistake but the end of the blade missed her by a few inches.

She rounded on Cato again and prepared for a fight. Her speed was clearly her strong point as Cato towered over her and had the upper hand in hand-to-hand combat. They were too close to each other for either to possibly feel confident enough to risk wasting a second to ready their weapons. But then again, we've established that Clove was psychotic.

In the time that it took Cato to recover from missing a weighty right hook, Clove had a knife in her hand ready to pounce. Cato avoided the initial lunge but a second slash at him resulted in a gash along his thigh. In return, he lifted his leg and swung powerfully into Clove's side causing her to lose both her breath and the knife in hand. She recovered quickly enough though and the weapon-less brawl restarted.

Peeta had watched the events mesmerized. He didn't move a muscle during the first moments of the fight but seeing the blood trickle down Cato's leg pushed him into movement. It wasn't much movement though because as soon as he'd taken a single step, he felt a sharp pain along the side of his neck as something shot past it.

As Peeta turned he saw Rue holding her slingshot in an offensive stance, loading another stone pellet into the pouch. A second after she'd released it, blood began to ooze from the spot on Peeta's neck that had taken two direct hits. Shit Peeta thought she's a good shot. And his sudden fear of the young girl wasn't helped by the two knives attached to her belt. Twelve years old or not, Rue had outlasted twenty older kids to reach this spot. She was dangerous.

Peeta loaded Katniss's bow with one of the three remaining arrows and aimed to kill. By the time he'd released the string, Rue's third stone pellet had connected with the bridge of Peeta's nose forcing him to double over to his knees in pain. As the blood started to pour into his eye, Peeta watched Rue start to run at him, detaching a knife from her belt as she ran. As the claret waterfall of blood forced his eyes closed, he silently resigned himself to the fact that he wouldn't get up in time to avoid the knife.

It happened so fast, Peeta wouldn't have been able to process it had he been watching. Cato set off in the direction of Rue with so much momentum that Clove came off her feet and collided with the ground. By the time Rue had raised the knife to strike, Cato was in mid swing with the sword. The cut was so clean that her body continued for a metre after her head was detached from her shoulders. The cannon had fired before her head came to rest in the dirt.

Cato turned to see Clove preparing to throw the third of her knives at Peeta's pathetic, bloody frame on the ground. It was doubtful that he could even see her through the crimson sheet of blood that coated his face. Cato had grabbed the knife out of Rue's hand out of instinct as her body went past him. Good job he had or Peeta would be a goner.

He didn't waste a second aiming; he just threw the knife in Clove's general direction. He wasn't trying to kill her or even hit her; he just wanted to distract her enough to make her miss her target. It worked. Just.

Clove's knife went whizzing past Peeta's neck, a few inches away from the spot that Rue's first two pellets had hit. Obviously the sudden wind scared him as Peeta made his first real attempt to clear the blood from his eyes and stumble to his feet. Going by the way he moved Cato assumed he was in a partial state of shock.

The time it took Clove arm both of her hands with an individual knife was enough for Cato to prepare his sword for battle. The three foot long capitol-made steel of the sword versus two six inch long curved titanium blades. There was no way of predicting the outcome.

The two were in a state of deadlock for a good few minutes. It was clear that both fighters were more than a match for each other. Considering they had both trained their whole lives for these games, it would have been a surprise had they not both been formidable. Slashes and slices rained down, the odd kick was aimed and yet neither even landed a hit worth noting.

Wrenching himself from his half paralyzed state of shock, Peeta decided that he'd seen enough; the fighting was becoming more energy consuming and Clove probably had the stamina advantage over Cato. In the heat of the moment, Peeta made a decision. He didn't even have the time to consider what he was doing before he started to do it.

Wiping the blood away from his eyes, Peeta lunged at her with the full intention of knocking her over or at least distracting her. Peeta collapsed to the ground a few feet away from the fighting. He had managed to distract one of the fighters. But it wasn't Clove.

In the split second that Cato's eyes flitted from his opponent to his lover, Clove saw her opportunity present itself and she drove one of the curved blades deep into Cato's stronger arm. His yelp of pain was repeated when Clove landed the second blade in his abdomen. Not as deep a cut, but in a much deadlier place. She left the blades in him and pulled out her fifth knife as she rounded on Peeta.

Peeta was still on the ground when Clove pulled him to his knees by a hand wrapped in his hair. From this close, Peeta could see that the girl was more than just psychotic. With every groan that came from Cato, Clove's grin widened but the look in her eye became more vacant as if she was both gaining and losing a grasp on reality. It made her appear a twisted combination of both horrifically evil and innocently empty.

Her voice was both shrill and fairy-like as she spoke. "Alright Lover Boy, now I'm going to cut you up. Do not attempt to fight or I will make your death slow and painful."

As Clove pulled the blade back for the final penetration of Peeta's body, he conceded the fact that he was going to die. Resisting would only exacerbate his situation. Maybe it would even be quick and peaceful. Maybe Cato could recover and win the games after all. Maybe his family would even miss him. There was a possibility that they were even proud of him as third place was the second best result District 12 had ever recorded in the Hunger Games. Maybe he'd be remembered in the future as the boy who defeated the odds. He had after all outlasted 21 other teenagers, most of whom were much better equipped. And the only tributes outlasting him were the two pre-Games favourites. It was quite an achievement. All of these thoughts flashed through Peeta's mind in a heartbeat as he prepared for the final death blow.

When Clove brought her blade-wielding hand back towards Peeta, it never reached its target. This is because a body came between the attacker and the victim: Cato. He had lifted himself to his feet, ignoring the intense pain racking his body and came between Peeta and the blade to save his love's life.

Her blade sank into his abdomen and a clear look of shock was etched onto her face. With no time to react or take her weapon out of Cato's body, there was nothing Clove could do but watch as he lifted the hand sporting the curved blade that she had left in his arm and made a clean cut through her jugular vein.

A jet of crimson erupted from her neck and sprayed all over Cato's face. One hand remained firmly clamped on the knife in Cato's body but the other came up to her neck to apply pressure to the wound. It was a pointless attempt though; even the world's most advanced doctors wouldn't have been able to stop her dying in minutes.

A new yelp came from Cato as Clove made the last act of her life twisting the knife inside him and bringing an intense, burning pain to his intestinal area. After completing her final act of revenge, she sank into the ground, spluttering and coughing. She was losing consciousness fast but she was still able to cough as her own blood seeped down the inside of her throat. After a minute, she stopped breathing. After another, her cannon sounded.

Peeta dropped to his knees and let Cato fall onto him. They were both exhausted but they had reached the end of the Hunger Games together despite the fact that it wasn't in the way that they had hoped to do it. He cradled his lover and looked down into his dying eyes.

"Cato, you're going to be okay, I promise you."

"I'm not a fucking idiot Peeta, I have three holes in me."

Through his tears, Peeta managed a smile. When he tried to stop the bleeding, Cato blocked his hand.

"No." He said as forcefully as one whom knows that he is about to die could possibly muster, "leave it. Make it as painless as possible."

Peeta did his best to honour his lover's deathbed wishes. Resisting the natural instinct to attend to his wounds, Peeta let Cato bleed – something that proved increasingly difficult the paler that Cato got.

"I really do love you Cato, thank you for walking into my life." Peeta said simply. He knew how weak the other boy was so he didn't expect an answer. It took a lot of energy for Cato to muster up a single word but he did manage one: "sing."

Peeta only knew one song and it would be painful to sing and a little weird too considering it was Katniss that had taught him it only days before. But he couldn't say no to the boy that had grown to mean so much to him.

Deep in the meadow, under the willow, a bed of grass, a soft sweet pillow

Cato's face regained the tiniest amount of colour and the corners of his mouth twitched as his eyes started to slide shut.

Lay down your head and close your sleepy eyes and when you awake, the sun will rise

A thin layer of contentness rested above every other emotion on Cato's face as his eyes became nothing more than slits. Behind them, the beautiful blue eyes took in Peeta's appearance as if making sure it would be the last thing that they'd ever see.

Here it's safe, here it's warm, here the daisies guard you from harm

The eyes closed and Cato lay in Peeta's arms with nothing but the sound of Peeta's voice and the crackling of the retreating fire breaking the silence between them. Even in death they were comfortable in each other's company. Cato brought together every ounce of energy that his body had left to breathe the words to Peeta. "Love… you…" The whisper was very, very quiet but it was just audible. Peeta's tears were joined by a small smile.

Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true

The tears were pouring down Peeta's cheeks at the comment. The two words broke his heart over and over again. The one true love in his life had been brought to him and wrenched from him in a matter of days. He cradled Cato as he sang the last words, feeling every single shortening breath that his true love took.

Here is the place where I love you.

His voice broke on the last two words and he let out a short strangled groan. Peeta couldn't hear any breathing or detect a heartbeat any more but Cato's chest still rose and fell very, very slowly. Peeta ran his hand lightly along the older boy's hairline and he leaned in to kiss him on the forehead one final time. Pulling away, he whispered "I love you too Cato" and the tips of Cato's mouth twitched. His last act in life was a smile. The tiny, almost undetectable smile on Cato's face as he died was the biggest, most noticeable of his life in terms of meaning. The boy who had lived almost entirely alone, desperate for glory had spent his last few moments loved beyond imagination and that was all he could ever ask for.

Almost on cue, Cato's chest became still in death and the smile relaxed into nothing. The boy died in the arms of his one true love. Peeta didn't fight the long, howl of despair that rose from his lungs. At some point as he mourned aloud for the other boy, a cannon sounded.

Cato lay dead in his arms and Peeta was alone in the world once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not too proud of this work if I'm honest. My writing style and interests are incredibly different now from what they were six years ago when I wrote this fic. But nonetheless, it's important to me because it was the first multichapter fic that I ever worked on, so it's sort of important to me. Honestly, I find it a little baffling that people are still reading this and enjoying it, so I sourced the rest of the the long-forgotten chapters, and I'm uploading. I'll upload the final two chapters in a couple of days, because the last two are a sort of epilogue, and it seems right to leave it a bit between uploads. Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed! As always, I welcome feedback!


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